


The New Queen / The Dogwood King

by seerofbread (zopponde)



Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: American Folklore Creature Wander, Reincarnation, folklore AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 14:26:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13148556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zopponde/pseuds/seerofbread
Summary: An ambitious old woman looks for a new source of power / Wander tries to show Sylvia the best picnic spot(An attempt at expanding on Folklore AU by I_am_Best)





	1. The New Queen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [I_am_Best](https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_Best/gifts).



> (This is probably best to just view as a complete work. I mostly needed a stronger line break.)
> 
> Tumblr post, with tracklist  
> <http://seerofbread.tumblr.com/post/168941449855/the-new-queen-the-dogwood-king>

An old woman hiked through the forest, heavily freckled, her hair matted and her bodice dirtied. She held her skirt over her knees, revealing shoes that were well-made at the start of the hike but now were caked with mud and worn into discomfort. The wrinkles on her face betrayed a lifetime of haughty expressions, but dust settled into the furrows of her brow as she marched. No matter how often she returned to the trained detached expression, the aggregation of particles on her forehead betrayed a pained frown.

A casual observer might assume she was lost in the woods. Maybe, if someone had offered help, she would have taken it as a sign to go home.

But she needed no help. She followed the path of hares and deer, meandering but steadily heading uphill, not yet wide enough for her to pass without ferns brushing her arms. She knew the way to return to her home, but if she kept going then she wouldn’t need to.

* * *

The king of the woods lives in a tree near the top of this mountain. They reign with an iron fist, sweeping the birds south on cold winds in the fall and ordering trees to put out new leaves in the spring. They drive every organism uphill, outward, expanding to conquer new soil, spreading the forest up mountains and into valleys.

The king of the woods has been a badger, an owl, a poisonous ivy, a great bear, a comfortable stone, a chickadee. They have lived thousands of lives and they will live thousands more in time.

None of this was taught in books, not even the heavy vellum tomes that are older than the woman. She heard this from hares, thanking the king for the grass in their teeth and cursing them when the foxes begin the hunt. She heard this from rivers enveloped in the woods, knowing that the king’s trees changed their course but doing nothing to stay the same. She heard this from trees in the wake of a fire, blessing the king for the mark of ash on their bark, a symbol of maturity in a deadly coming-of-age.

The woman saw the king in her dreams. They were a dogwood tree now, impressive in size but with flowers wilting more quickly with each passing year. In her dreams, they needed her to do a favor for them, and they would grant something of equal value. They showed her the way and she followed it, destined, until she finds the dogwood.

The king of the forest recognizes her strength, and they knows what to do from there. Nature takes its course, brutally. The forest would crumble without a ruler.

* * *

A casual observer might assume that the woman marched back home the way she came, walking more easily as she sauntered downhill in a straight line. Maybe her walk uphill widened the path just enough to ease her passing.

But her walks would be easier for years to come, for decades, for centuries. She walked easily through the woods because trees will always make way for their ruler.  
  



	2. The Dogwood King

“Say, Wander,” Sylvia said, walking through the woods with her Wander on her back, “didn’t you say this picnic spot was just a short walk away?”

“Yeah, it’s right up there!” Wander said, pointing. “Near the top of this hill, there’s the most gorgeous tree you ever did see.”

“You’d think other people would have noticed, if it were so great,” Sylvia grumbled.

“The best sights are off the trail, don’t you know?”

Sylvia sighed and trudged on. Just like Wander to forget how long he was making her walk. “Better be the best tree in the whole darn forest, if I gotta walk this far.”

“Well, I don’t want to be putting down the other trees,” Wander said, “but I reckon they are. Been going to them for a mighty long time now, they’ve got the best shade for a picnic and right now they ought to be full of these big old flowers. Not to be dismissive of that little town you came from, but this is one of those real old-growth trees, older than the oldest mine in these mountains, so I don’t suppose you’ve seen a tree anything like this. Well,” he went on, “guess nobody has. One of a kind, you know.”

“How’s a tree one of a kind?” Sylvia asked. “You’ve seen one, you’ve got a pretty good idea.”

“Oh, well, I don’t want to spoil the surprise,” Wander said with barely-concealed excitement.

Sylvia rolled her eyes. “Guess we’ll see when we get there, then.” She didn’t want to ask how much further it would be. The answer was always just a little ways now.

But this time, it wasn’t long before Wander was hopping off her back. “Here we are!” he said as he skipped on ahead. “Oh Syl, you’re in for a real treat. How you doing, old pal?” He must have been asking the tree.

“As long as there’s somewhere to put my feet up, that’s the only treat I need,” Sylvia mumbled, catching up. She’d need all her strength to keep up with Wander and a tree friendship. He must be up there, trying to shake its hand or give it a hug, asking how its day was and acting like he heard a response.

Well, maybe he had tried to shake its hand, because he held a low-hanging branch in his furry orange hand. But he stood still, a confused expression on his face, an uncharacteristic frown creeping in.

Sylvia tried to look impressed. “This one’s uh, a catbranch, right?”

“Dogwood,” Wander said, distantly. He looked at the leaves, at the stiff brown flowers. “They, um... well, it’s still the oldest tree in the forest, I reckon. You still there, old buddy?”

The tree looked mighty sad, even as Wander kept talking to it. Awful lot of brown for this time of year, and if were growing in any park Sylvia had seen it’d be cut down for too much uncontrolled growth. Big, though, she’d give it that, and from here she could see so much of the valley, a big stretch of green heading down.

“Not such a bad spot,” Sylvia said, sitting down to look out over the carpet of trees below her.

* * *

Around sunset, Wander left the tree and plopped down next to Sylvia, curling around himself to hug his knees.

“How’s the tree?” Sylvia asked.

Wander sighed. “Dying,” he said, flat. “The spirit is already gone. Trees just take a time to slow down to a stop.”

“Oh, Wander. You’re real torn up on this one, aren’t you?” Sylvia wrapped her tail around Wander to pull him closer into an embrace. “Good friends with that tree?” It didn’t make sense to Sylvia, but it seemed like it would mean something to Wander.

“Well, more with the spirit, I suppose,” Wander said, weaseling around something.

Sylvia thought about that. “What was so special about that tree, anyway? Seems I’m not gonna see it for myself now.”

Wander hesitated. “Guess I wasn’t so sure myself,” he said. “But it was older than the tree, I think, and I reckon that’s ‘cause it had some powerful spirit living in it. I’d seen them before, in some animals and rocks and things. Switched over every so-often. Knew how the forest is supposed to go, and made sure it all went right. But now… they’re gone, looks like.”

“Gone?”

“Some squirrels said it moved on to something else. A human this time,” Wander said. “The bluejays said they’re already holding court in some old plantation house. The whole forest is all abuzz, getting ready for the party. And I…” He sounded particularly pained as he went on, “I wasn’t invited. I didn’t even know they had…”

Sylvia shook her head. “Some people just don’t know how to keep in touch. Well, if this spirit thing can’t recognize a good Wander to be friends with, then I don’t know if that tree was ever going to be worth that hike.”

“That’s mighty kind of you to say, Syl,” Wander said warmly, but he still sighed. “Well, at least you found a good spot to watch the sunset from.”

* * *

There is a cardinal with a special task. It is never easy to find a Wander, much less a specific one, but the cardinal has directions about when and where this one might go and how to recognize him. In red streaks from tree to tree, the bird carries a message, and visits the dogwood tree whenever it should be flowering.

On another day, after another hike, the Wander finds the cardinal, and receives the message.

_You are cordially invited to the court of Entozoa, Queen of the Forest. She misses you beneath her branches._

  



End file.
